~ Be Brave, Love Big

Tag Archives: The Glorious Table

“Grace always shocks. Grace always stuns. Grace is always what we need. It’s what everyone groping around lost in the dark has to know: turn toward grace and you turn on all the lights.” ~Ann Voskamp

She was waiting for me when I returned to my car. I could see right away she was furious.

“You are SO inconsiderate! You parked right in front of my mailbox! How dare you!“

My heart was pounding as I took a deep breath and considered my options. Perhaps a sarcastic comment about the wisdom of buying a house right across the street from a school? Or maybe I could just give her a dirty look, get in my car, and quickly drive away? How dare she lie in wait for me, then stand in the street screaming and shaking her finger at me?

However, since I had spent time in prayer earlier that morning, the Holy Spirit had followed me there and was whispering something else entirely.

She is hurting. Show her love. Show her grace.

A little disappointed to be robbed of my opportunity for a witty comeback or a dramatic stand, I decided to take the high road. I looked her in the eye and listened quietly until she ran out of words.

“I’m so sorry,” I said. “You are right. I shouldn’t have parked there. This must be so frustrating for you. I’m really very sorry.”

She paused and then, not knowing how to deal with my response, she turned on her heel and stomped back into her house.

As I got back in my car, I was still shaking with emotion. The intensity of her anger made me feel vulnerable, and I was still struggling with the desire to lash out at her in return. In the past, I would have felt justified in returning fire for fire, unloading on her in retaliation. On this occasion, proximity to the Spirit led me to choose differently.

I wish I could say I always choose grace.

Several years later, I had the opportunity to learn more about the woman I met that day when she signed up for a Bible study…

Like this:

When I was in my forties, I asked my mom, who was in her sixties, “Mom, at what age did you finally feel like a real grown up?”

“I’ll let you know,” she said. “It hasn’t happened yet.”

I thought being a grown-up would be a little less–I don’t know–messy. I thought it would be a little less haphazard–fewer stops and starts, a bit more consistency. I guess I thought I would have it a little (okay, a lot) more together, and be a bit closer to the perfect ideal I had in mind when I was younger.

After fifty-two years of research on the subject and with a firm grasp of the obvious, I am beginning to understand that I will not be able to achieve anything close to perfection in this lifetime. Perhaps perfection isn’t exactly the right word, but the more I think about the things that keep me stuck, the more I realize I have secretly harbored an unrealistic vision of what being a grown-up looks like. I expected a certain completeness, a sense of having arrived at the final version of me. I had hoped to achieve a clarity of calling; the right balance of work and play; healthy relationships with food, my body, my family, my friends, my money, my colleagues, the church, and God. Check, check, check. All done! Yay team!

The trouble begins when I interpret anything less than this ideal as failure.

It doesn’t help that everyone else seems to have figured out how to be a grown-up. Whether I’m at my kids’ school, at work, or on social media, examples of the perfect woman appear to abound. Everyone else seems to have found a way to do it all and make it look easy. From Pinterest-worthy birthday parties and elaborately designed gift baskets for the charity auction to well-behaved children changing the world, there are no shortage of reminders of the ways our performance doesn’t quite measure up. If only we could balance all the demands on our attention as seamlessly as our friends appear to on Facebook!

And don’t get me started on the pressure of pulling off the perfect Christmas! Will this year be the year we finally do the family Advent devotions? Does it still count if my children are now twenty and twenty-two?

When I make my goal a vision of perfection or being “complete,” the inevitable mistakes and detours of life become the enemy, and feelings of failure are the result. When I compare my real life to someone else’s online highlight reel, I always come up short. My perceived failures define me, and I am never, ever enough.

Here is what I am discovering: every single one of us is making it up as we go along. That friend who seems to have it all together is just as scared and unsure as I am. The person who seems to have all the answers has struggles and challenges I just don’t see. The older I get, the more comfortable I have become with the knowledge that I will never “arrive”–and neither will anyone else. We are all in process, all still learning, all still growing towards the people God has created us to be. When I believe other women have it all together in a way I don’t yet, I perpetuate the myth of perfection and feed the culture of competition and comparison that keeps us hiding from one another.

We looked around the room, eyeing each other nervously, the twenty of us strangers at a weekend training course. Some of us attempted to make awkward conversation with the people on either side of us. We carefully broached the usual questions regarding where we lived, what we do, and the always safe topic of weather.

Our group leader called us to attention, then invited us to stand up, wander around the room, and introduce ourselves to one another by asking this question:

“What is your dream for your life?”

Moving from one person to the next, I stammered through my response the first few times but grew increasingly confident as I marveled at how many of us had similar dreams.

As I traveled around the room, I began adding depth to my response. I discovered kindred spirits and a receptive audience. As we all grew more comfortable, the energy and feeling of connection in the room was palpable. With the ice effectively broken, our leader laughed as he struggled to quiet us and move on to the next activity.

Talking about our dreams is not something most of us routinely do, in spite of our inherent desire to know and be known. Although we may hunger for it, true connection is often difficult in our busy everyday lives. We hurry past one another with a cursory how-do-you-do and an obligatory fine-thank-you as we move on to the next item on our to-do lists.

How often do we begin a conversation with a deep question? And if we do, how well do we listen to the response?

One way we can have conversations that really matter is by asking powerful questions. Asking open-ended questions lets the people in our lives know we are truly interested in who they are, what they think, and how they are feeling. Closed-ended questions, questions that can be answered with a simple yes or no response, shut down conversation and limit insight. Open-ended questions invite connection and sharing.

Thoughtful questions like the following communicate our desire to truly listen:

What did you like most about that experience?

What are you hoping will happen?

How did that make you feel?

If we are brave enough to ask better questions, we also must be willing to do the hard work of listening well to the answers. Good listening requires intentionality, patience, and practice. As a naturally loquacious person…

Every Tuesday afternoon as we finish the mid-afternoon prayer, Dave invites everyone within hearing range to gather for afternoon Bible study at the twenty-foot table in the center of the room.

“It is a very exclusive table,” he says each time. “Only sinners allowed!”

The Lamb Center, a day shelter for homeless and poor individuals, recently moved to a bigger, better-equipped building. Three times the size of the old building, the new space enables us to serve our guests in a number of new ways. In spite of the improvements, though, the heart of what transpires continues to happen around the old table in the center of the room, the only piece of furniture that made the move from the old building to the new. Built lovingly by a volunteer who has since passed away, the table was created especially for The Lamb Center. Staff, volunteers, and guests couldn’t imagine a Lamb Center without this table–a symbol of hope, healing, and transformation for so many.

I understand the attachment to this special table. I too have sensed God’s presence there and have been repeatedly moved by the vulnerability, compassion, and hope I have experienced within this community during the years I have been leading Tuesday afternoon Bible study. If I know anything at all about the kingdom of God, I’ve learned it at this table.

All are welcome

Everyone is welcome at The Lamb Center table. Whether sharing a meal, gathering for Bible study, or engaging in conversation during the hours in between, there are no requirements for a seat at the table except a willingness to pull up a chair. This is a place of radical hospitality. Whether guest, staff, or volunteer, we are all invited to come as we are. We can show up hungry, show up confused, show up with a smile, or show up with tears in our eyes. We can show up in our finest clothes or show up in our last filthy shirt. We can share our perspectives or sit quietly and listen. The table is a safe place, and we are all there by God’s invitation. My friend Dave often says to those who hesitate at the edge of our circle, “We won’t be complete without you.” At the table and in the kingdom, we are loved, our stories are valued, and our presence matters.

People are messy

The Lamb Center table is raw, honest, and real. Life is hard, and many of our guests are living in difficult circumstances. My friends at The Lamb Center are under no misconceptions that they have their lives under control. The pride and self-sufficiency which plague many of us with comfortable homes and money in the bank has long since been left behind by my friends who sleep in the woods. They know they need help because the situations in which they find themselves leave them no alternative. Around this holy table, masks of invincibility have no place. We laugh a great deal…

This week marks the one year anniversary of The Glorious Table, a contributor blog where “life is shared and grace is poured out.” I am honored and humbled to be a part of this community of brave writers. If you aren’t already, please visit The Glorious Table and sign up to receive our posts in your Inbox. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, Glorious Table!!

“When I grow up, I want to be like Judy,” I told my friend Chris. I was lamenting my lack of progress in transforming into the perfect woman of God I had imagined. “When God is done fixing me, I want to be calm, quiet, and wise like Judy.”

As I expressed my frustration, my sweet friend listened well as always, until the steady stream of words stopped and I paused to take a breath.

“Whatever God’s perfect plans are for you, Kelly, I can’t imagine they will involve you being calm and quiet,” she said gently, her eyes twinkling as she smiled at me. “Whatever God has planned for you will be the perfect match for your loud, enthusiastic, bubbling, passionate personality. God didn’t make you calm and quiet. He made you in a different way, and I’m so glad he did. You aren’t supposed to be like her; you are meant to be you.”

I have returned to that conversation repeatedly over the years. My friend reminded me God created me with a particular Kelly-shaped blueprint. He gave me particular strengths, talents, and personality traits unlike any other of his creations. While we are each made in the image of our God, we express the variety and beauty of that image in a myriad of ways. My job is to express the “Kelly-ness” of God.

It is tempting to look around and see others who seem to have what we want. I envied my friend Judy’s quiet wisdom and thoughtful demeanor, mistakenly believing it was “holier” than my naturally more ebullient style of communicating. Yet in the years since I received Chris’s encouragement, I have seen how God has been able to use my gifts in a different way, even as I learn from her quieter example. Judy and I ended up working together, and I saw firsthand how our styles complemented each other. God used our differences to build up his people in more ways than he might have had we been more alike.

My friend gave me a precious gift the day she chose to encourage me and name me well. She saw my unique gifts, affirmed God’s work in my life, and expressed her love and affection for me–the real me, the person God made like no other.

Like this:

I get together with a group of women every other Friday. There are nine of us, most a year or two on either side of our fiftieth birthdays. Our kids are all teens or twenty-somethings, and we have all been married for approximately forever. Along with the usual talk about our families and jobs, we now also routinely find ourselves telling mammogram and colonoscopy stories. Let’s just say I know way more than I need to know about these women’s bowels!

We are decidedly middle aged, and we think we are hilarious. If we don’t run out of time telling stories and laughing, we end our time by praying. We have traveled a number of difficult roads together from kids with chronic illness or legal problems to aging parents with Alzheimer’s or cancer. We have stood with one another through our own health challenges and through the loss of too many of our parents. Talking, laughing, crying, and praying with these ladies feels like church to me, in all the best ways.

Several years ago, our little group got very busy with life and fell out of the habit of meeting regularly. We were lamenting about this sad state of affairs in a Facebook chat stream where we found ourselves “meeting” instead. One friend mentioned she missed our face-to-face time together and wasn’t willing to put it on a back burner anymore. We all agreed…